


move me

by seimaisin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: Unnamed f!WoL and Aymeric.The more debauched activities he suggests - all in that wonderfully calm, smooth voice, as if they're discussing the allocation of resources in the Firmament - the more she squirms in her seat, her skin feeling too tight, too hot.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV - Aymeric de Borel x WoL Recommendations





	move me

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for plot, you've come to the wrong place.

It's not a surprise that Aymeric is dedicated to negotiations - she's watched him firmly but delicately handle the most complex of Ishgardian politics. But having that same scrupulous concentration applied to what may happen between them in bed is an altogether different experience. By the Twelve, he's …  _ thorough _ . The more debauched activities he suggests - all in that wonderfully calm, smooth voice, as if they're discussing the allocation of resources in the Firmament - the more she squirms in her seat, her skin feeling too tight, too hot. Her only solace is that, while his voice remains level, his eyes are blown dark and wide, trained on her face and drinking in all of her reactions.

She's had the pleasure of tasting him, felt his simmering passion boil over for all too brief a time, knows vaguely what it feels like to be lost in him, even just in a kiss. (If his kisses can be called "just" anything - when he lets go, he's a hurricane, a force of nature destroying every ounce of her dignity, her self-control, not that she misses either.) And she wants more, so much more,  _ fuck  _ she wants more. But she also wants to please him, and he is so obviously taking immense pleasure in this dialogue, in discussing all the ways he might take her apart and overwhelm her with pleasure. So she waits, and matches his outer composure, and feels her temperature rise until she's sure he can see the flames licking underneath her skin.

Eventually, she breaks, just a little, with a whimpered "please, Aymeric." His expression goes gentle, and he reaches over to cup her cheek. Even just this small touch makes her shiver now. "My love," he murmurs, rubbing a thumb over her cheek, "I don't want you to beg. I want you to take all the pleasure I can give you, and trust that I know when it's time for you to let go. Can you do that for me?" 

At this point, the gentle swipe of his thumb feels almost like he's stroking between her legs, she's so needy. But she nods. "Yes, sir," she whispers. 

"Good girl." He leans down to rub his nose against hers. "I'm going to take care of you," he says softly. "I promise." 

*

As it turns out, "taking care" of her first involves an appeal to her own self-control. "Bindings can be very nice," he says as he peels her out of her clothing, "but let's start with an experiment, shall we?" That's how she finds herself spread naked on his bed, her hands clutching the exquisite wrought iron decorations in the headboard, not bound by anything but a promise. "Hands stay there until I tell you otherwise," he instructs. "And legs apart." Once she's arranged to his liking, Aymeric steps back to take in the sight. She feels so exposed, but overwhelmingly appreciated, as he stalks around the bed to look at her from all angles. He's still fully dressed, in the fine silk suit he wore to a banquet earlier in the evening, and the contrast between them is delightful. She wonders what it would feel like to be like this, naked and needy and waiting, in his oh so proper office, to have him watch her like this while he's fully armored. Just the thought - and his heavy gaze - prompts a soft moan. He smiles at that, all at once sweet and wolfish. "It bodes well," he says, "that just my gaze can cause a reaction." 

_ Touch me, _ she wants to ask,  _ please just touch me, I'm dying.  _ But she's promised not to beg - she's promised to trust him to know what she needs. "What do you want me to do now?" she asks instead. 

"Nothing," he murmurs, sitting on the bed next to her and carding a hand through her hair. "Just lay there and enjoy. And hold your pleasure until I tell you to release it." 

Finally, he lowers himself to her and presses his mouth to hers - still restrained, but just the heat of his body has her arching into him. Verbal begging may be off the table, but she'll never be able to stop her body from seeking what it desperately wants. Thankfully, this seems to please him; he chuckles against her mouth, sending vibrations dancing across her skin, and wraps an arm around her back to hold her against his chest. One of his legs slides between hers, and it only takes the slightest friction for her to gasp and tighten her grip on the bed. "Shhhhh," he murmurs against her lips, rubbing a circle on her hip. "I love how responsive you are, but don't strain yourself yet. This is going to take a while." Honestly, she's not sure if that's a threat or a promise, but at this point, she doesn't care. She's been aching for his touch on her skin for so long, now that she has it, she'll do anything he wants as long as he doesn't leave her side.

She doesn't mean to whisper that sentiment aloud, but apparently she does, because he pulls back and gives her a soft look that makes her chest squeeze tight. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. "You have all of me, my love." 

"I know," she whispers, because she does, and that's one of the reasons she loves him.

He smiles, and then his head dips to her skin to taste the curve of her neck. From there, she drifts on a sea of bliss - it's the only word for the way it feels to have his mouth roaming her skin, from throat to shoulder to sternum, to have his fingers trace invisible patterns up and down her side, to feel his teeth nip her skin just a touch harder than she expects, followed by the soothing heat of his tongue over the bite. He nuzzles between her breasts, kisses along the underside of one before discovering a surprisingly sensitive spot right at the outer curve. There, he bites and sucks as she giggles helplessly, leaving what she can only assume are marks she'll find tomorrow. And oh, does she like the idea of bearing Aymeric's marks - of being branded his in such an intimate way. 

When his fingers finally make their way to a nipple, she gives a happy sigh - followed by a loud high-pitched whine as he squeezes it between two fingers. "Do you like that?" he asks. When she nods vigorously, he does it again, holding the pressure for a few seconds and making her arch off the bed. "Very good to know," he says, before lowering to soothe the peak with his mouth - and pinch the other nipple. He trades off, one then the other, until her nipples feel swollen and sensitive even to the bedroom air. "Perhaps," Aymeric muses, kissing the valley between her breasts, "I'll commission a nice set of jewelry, something you could wear for me here in the privacy of the bedroom. Would you wear jewels dripping from your lovely breasts for me?" 

"Yes," she sighs, closing her eyes to enjoy the mental image. She has to imagine he knows a discreet jeweler who won't be utterly scandalized by the Lord Commander's desire for nipple clamps - but she has to admit that secretly, it might be a bit of a thrill for some to know the extent of his claim on the now infamous Warrior of Light. 

And then his mouth trails lower on her belly, and she forgets all about jewelers or gossip, or anything other than the throbbing heat he seems to be heading for - slowly. Agonizingly slowly, as far as she's concerned. He nibbles on the softness that persists low on her belly even after all the fighting and running, touches every inch of skin as if he's memorizing her. Perhaps he is, at that. His kisses feel reverent, like he's decided to turn heretic and worship the expanse of her skin. It's heady, and wonderful, and if he doesn't touch her cunt soon she may well explode. But she bites her lip before more than his name escapes. "Aymeric …"

He looks up, eyes twinkling as if he knows the plea she's suppressing. "You're heavenly," he says. "And you're being so good for me." But yet, he continues his sweet torture for a minute more, lavishing her belly and hips with kisses and gentle nips while his weight prevents her from arching up and attaining any friction. She lets out a noise that sounds somewhere between a sigh and a whine, and feels his breath on her skin as he chuckles. "Now now," he says, "do you really want my mouth on you just yet? I'm not inclined to give you permission to come so soon. Do you really think you can hold back if I let myself feast on you?"

Gods, she shudders just at the words. He may have a point, but she's not sure that she cares just now. Her lips curve upward as she looks at him. "I do love a challenge."

"Indeed." He looks proud - more, he shows the first real signs of his own hunger flashing behind his eyes. The combination is more arousing than she can handle. Gods above, she's in for it now, isn't she? 

He gives her no time to reconsider her foolish bravado. In an instant, he is arranging himself comfortably between her thighs, lifting one of her legs to sling over his shoulder. She finds it hard to breathe as she observes his expression - he studies her cunt with the eagerness of a man who has been starved for a meal. He brings a hand up to part her folds, to expose the most sensitive part of her, and she trembles with the effort to keep her hips still. But when he finally leans forward to taste her, there is none of the sweet gentleness he's exhibited thus far - he sucks her clit into his mouth and presses his tongue hard against her, a low rumbling sound coming from his chest and vibrating against her in a way that has her swearing aloud. "That's it," he murmurs when he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice still sending shivers through her. "Tell me how good it feels, I want to hear you." 

She has no choice in the matter - he'd have to gag her to keep her from crying out when he dives back in. What little sense she has left is entirely used up to keep her pleasure from rising too far, too fast. He's damnably perceptive; when his tongue hits a spot that makes her whole body shake, he focuses on it, licking right there over and over until she's desperately drawing in deep, shaky breaths to forestall the peak she can feel forming in her core. But he has no mercy now, not until she's on the edge of breaking, teetering on the edge of losing all control over her own body, when he finally pulls away. She has to close her eyes as she gasps for breath, bringing herself under control again. When she looks down again, he's watching her with dark eyes and a satisfied smile. The glistening juices covering his mouth and chin give lie to the thin veneer of civilization he still wears. "Such a good girl," he croons, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. "How far do you think I can push you? How much do you think you could take before you break?"

He punctuates the question by sliding two fingers slowly inside of her. Now she can't keep her hips from rising to meet him, as her cunt clenches around his fingers. And that, somehow, is what dispels the last vestiges of proper, polite Lord Aymeric - the man whose gaze now meets hers is someone far more feral. "Fuck, you're tight." She's never heard him swear, not like this, a low growl full of need. It's  _ intoxicating. _

A small smile plays on her lips as she purposely squeezes around his fingers again, holding long enough to feel her own muscles shudder before she releases. Aymeric's answering growl makes  _ her  _ feel feral enough to bite. He doesn't respond verbally otherwise - instead, his fingers begin sliding in and out of her, as his mouth covers her clit again. His tongue is lazier now, lapping at her just hard enough to slowly stoke the fire in her belly again, but his fingers are merciless. There's something insanely erotic about the sounds they're making, the obscene wet noises accompanied by occasional gasps of air and low, quiet moans. She's lost in it for what feels like a long time, giving herself over to the pleasure he's hell bent on creating. Here in this haze, her rise takes her by surprise - gods, she almost loses it when he crooks his fingers inside of her. The sound she makes sounds more like an animal, a half-scream, half gasp as she tries to choke in enough air to keep the orgasm from escaping. 

He pulls away then, and even though part of her is grateful for the relief, the larger part of her whines at the withdrawal of his heat. She's empty now, she wants his lovely fingers back - no, she wants his cock, but he's still fully dressed, lounging at the foot of the bed with a pleased smile. There is a satisfyingly large bulge in his trousers, but fuck, she's losing her mind, and he's too fucking  _ clothed.  _

"Look at you," he murmurs, slowly rearranging himself so he can crawl back up her body. "Trying so hard for me, following my orders, even though your body is desperate. You're exquisite." He places a kiss between her breasts, then lifts his head to meet her trembling lips. This kiss belies the steadiness of his voice - underneath the silken suit, the silken words, she can taste a predator claiming his prey. Her arms strain with the effort to keep them clinging to the bed, instead of reaching up to bury her hands in his hair, to quiet the part of her that wants to cling and keep him close. "I can be a very patient man," he murmurs against her lips, his voice now little more than a growl. "On another night, I could keep you here like this for hours. I could see how long it takes to make you beg, or I could see exactly how many peaks I can wring from your body before it refuses to rise for me again." Even just the mental image wrings a soft sob from her throat, and he pulls back to sit up. "But tonight … gods, I've waited too long to have you." 

When he leaves the bed to remove his trousers, she can see him trembling - gods, she's done this to him, made him need her as much as he needs him. And then he's gloriously nude and climbing back onto the bed - back to her. "You can let go, darling," he murmurs, tugging her hands from the headboard. Once the feeling has returned to her wrists, he pats her hip. "Up on your knees, and lean forward."

Her knees will barely hold her, she's trembling so hard, but as soon as she's upright and grasping the headboard again, he molds himself to her back and holds her up. She can feel his cock pressing into her backside, long and thick and hot enough to make her groan. She can't help but press back into him - and gods, he makes the most satisfying noise at that. "Aymeric," she moans, "oh gods, I …" She hadn't realized how hard it would be not to beg him, how great her need would be. She wants all of him, every last inch she can feel branding the small of her back. 

"You've earned your reward," he murmurs in her ear. One of his hands leaves her to position himself - now she can feel the head of his cock pressing against her. "Push back, take me."

Gods, she's never obeyed any command so quickly. And  _ fuck, _ it feels so good, the only noise she can make is a broken sob as she fills up so thoroughly. Aymeric molds himself around her as she settles, his mouth meeting her ear and whispering the sweetest, filthiest things - how beautiful she is, how perfect her cunt feels, like it was made for him. All she can do is drop her head back onto his shoulder and tremble as her muscles slowly stretch to take more of him. One of his hands drops down between her legs; when his fingers meet her clit, she makes a broken noise of pure pleasure. "Don't worry," he whispers, "it's time. Let me feel you come on my cock."

He doesn't move, doesn't thrust up into her. He simply fills her up as his fingers play her like a bard plays an instrument. It takes a shamefully short amount of time - she's so ready, so close to overstimulated, that it feels like he's barely started by the time her body gives up. Gods, it's an exquisite feeling, to drown in wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure while trapped in his arms, possessed by him in every way possible, listening to his beautiful voice tell her how good and perfect she is. 

When she goes limp, he eases her head and shoulders down onto the pillow, leaning over to scatter kisses onto her neck while still firmly seated inside of her. "You're not done," he murmurs. "Now that I've felt you coming for me, I intend to experience it as many times as possible." She turns her head and makes a noise that she hopes shows how eager she is to experience that, at least a little bit, and he rewards her with a kiss to her exposed cheek. "Oh, by the way," he says, chuckling, "you are now allowed, and even encouraged to beg. And to come as many times as you want." 

That's all the warning she gets before he straightens up, takes hold of her hips, and begins to move. She's always imagined that Aymeric would be excellent at making love, and she still thinks so, but this isn't anything of the sort - this, she thinks as she reaches out to brace herself, is what it's like to be well and thoroughly  _ fucked  _ by the Lord Commander. Her only regret is that she can't see what he looks like right now, whether he looks as desperate as his thrusts feel. But that's a thought that flies through her mind at the speed of sound, as his cock finds the sweetest spot inside of her and makes her squirm beneath him. "Please, please, more Aymeric, god please I need more …" 

He doesn't talk anymore - the sounds he makes are fully feral, guttural groans and occasional curses, which honestly just drive her higher more quickly. Her second orgasm comes on a gasp, a sharp, focused pleasure that almost feels painful in its intensity. She hears him give a low, breathless chuckle as she comes, but he doesn't slow down at all, not until she's half collapsed back on the bed, her arms unable to keep her from sliding wildly from his movement. At that point, he slows and eventually withdraws from her, earning a high-pitched whine at the loss. "Shhhh, just turn over," he says. His voice is rougher than she's ever heard it, and honestly her body trembles again just at the sound. 

She pushes herself over onto her back - and  _ oh _ , he looks  _ wrecked _ . The man looming above her is tousled and sweating, eyes almost entirely black with need, cock glistening with the remnants of her orgasms, swollen and bobbing and looking in desperate need of release. She reaches her arms up to him, unable to breathe properly at the sight. "Come here, give me, god  _ please  _ Aymeric, I need you."

It feels as if whatever control he was holding has collapsed; he falls on her like a man possessed. She cries out in triumph when he fills her again, winds her arms around his shoulders and holds tight as he starts to thrust again. And when he empties into her not long after, it feels like a victory, like his surrender is the prize she's earned. 

He collapses to his side, but when he goes to move away and roll over, she protests wordlessly and wraps a leg around him. He gives a tired chuckle and remains draped partially over her, a lovely, welcome weight as she slowly stops shaking. After a while, he speaks, his voice still that lovely rough rasp that makes her shiver a bit even now. "I have learned my lesson," he says, kissing her hair. 

"Oh? What's that?"

"I don't think I'll order you not to beg again. You sound too damned intoxicating when you do." 

She laughs at that. "Good, because that was the hardest part."

"I will have to find other ways to test your patience. No sense in denying myself the sweet sound of your voice." He shifts so he can press his kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, and finally her mouth. "I have to wonder, though - were you ever tempted to break? Even just to see what the consequence might be?"

She thinks for a moment. "No, but now that you mention it ... " 

"I am absolutely blown away by your obedience, and want it to continue, but ... " He pulls back and gives her a grin. "There's always some fun to be had in the occasional struggle." 

"I will keep that in mind." 

Yes, she thinks, as he finally rolls over and pulls her into him to rest, she's certain disobeyed an order or two in her time. None of the rest have had as sweet of punishments as he seems to promise, though. It will definitely be worth a try. For now, though, she will spend the night basking in the sweet praise he continues to murmur into her skin. To be Lord Commander Aymeric's beautiful, good girl is all she needs right now.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is inspired by Hozier, because that's what you listen to when you're writing smut, right? 
> 
> Blame this entirely on [the book club](https://discord.gg/mmeFDHj). It's their fault.


End file.
